


Broken Wings

by BL4CKB377Y, CircleUp



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Dadpool, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Except by Wade, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Physical Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mutual Pining, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker and Wade Wilson First Meet, Peter doesn't like to be touched, Peter is always hungry, Peter needs to get his head out of his ass, Poor Peter Parker, Protective Wade Wilson, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved, Wade Wilson Likes Peter Parker's Butt, Wade feeds him, and let Wade get at dat ass instead, like it's a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22691698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BL4CKB377Y/pseuds/BL4CKB377Y, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircleUp/pseuds/CircleUp
Summary: I don't understand why we can't just hold onto each other's hands.This time will be the last, I fear, unless I make it all too clear that I need you so.So take these broken wings and learn to fly again, and learn to live so free.When we hear the voices sing the book of love will open up and let us in!
Relationships: Eleanor Camacho & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Eleanor Camacho & Wade Wilson, Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 38
Kudos: 133





	1. Where You Go When You Fall Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little back story... Harry being super extra... Pete gets a lead on a job...

Peter's flying feathers had fully matured when he was twelve and the raven color of his wings had attracted the worst kind of bullies imaginable, not just from his school, but the bad parts of his neighborhood alike. They hounded and swarmed him like flies. Mad, hateful, vicious, and violent flies. Peter hadn’t stood a chance. He’d barely been given the chance to learn to fly before he had been eternally grounded. They’d broken both of Peter’s pinion joints in the assault. Damaged beyond complete repair, the doctors had said. That hadn’t been the extent of the damage, but it had definitely been the most devastating. Pete wasn’t _just_ a raven, but now a flightless raven to boot. There had been no amount of physical therapy that could have brought him back from that. At least, none Aunt May or Uncle Ben could afford.

They’d moved after the trial. Pete had switched schools and started bleaching his feathers after that. Sadly, however, the facade never lasted long, and feather dye was ridiculously expensive. Keeping up the pretense only got harder after the bite. He could color his wings one day, and he’d wake up completely multed with new, shiny black plumage come the next morning. Thank you, Spider genetics! You really worked in Peter's favor there.

Binding and covering weren't totally unheard of behaviors. In fact, wing-binding had become the latest trend among the Grays and Dull-Jewels; kind of as a way of preserving a sort of mystery. Sure, everyone knew you weren't an Ivory - who would hide that? - but some people got away with it long enough to fall in love and escape their color group.

Of course, the real reason Peter hid his wings was a lot more complicated than all that. It hardly seemed fair that in almost every aspect of Pete's life he was doomed to be an outcast, because for all anyone knew, Peter was a Gray. A "Gray."

Gwen had known the truth once upon a time. Apart from his immediate family, she had been the first and only person he'd told after he'd started hiding it - but she was dead, now. So, no one knew except Peter and May. Aunt May had often told him his color was nothing to be ashamed of, but Peter knew better. No Ivory or Jewel had ever been assaulted and irreparably pinioned because of their color. Some of his closest friends, like Harry, might say they understand, but they never really would. Despite most claims of acceptance, Peter would never really fit in.

Becoming Spiderman, and more importantly selling pictures of Spiderman had afforded Peter the opportunity to experiment and build, which was when his web shooters had come into play. Thwipping around the city may not be flying, but it was damn near close, and one of the most freeing experiences he’d ever felt. His life as Peter Parker might not be glamorous, but his secret life as Spiderman allotted him a freedom and an outlet he had so desperately needed.

...Then Uncle Ben had died, because of him he might add, and everything after that had sort of shifted into perspective. Pete had powers now, and with them an immense responsibility. His actions, or inactions, had consequences. He got his ass handed to him a lot in the beginning, but he trained, and he never gave up. Something as small as the color of his wings had started to feel a little trivial after that. Never trivial enough for him to stop hiding them though.

~~~~~

After High School, Peter went to college. Barely, and he means barely. If it weren't for the scholarships and grants he'd worked very hard to earn, he'd probably be on the streets. Even so, he managed to hold down a tiny studio apartment, could occasionally pay for heat, but he couldn't afford the luxury of the internet so he practically lived at the library most days. At night he swung around the city, which was a rewarding little luxury in itself.

The Avengers called him in to help sometimes, and even among his fellow supers he was still an outcast. Most of them were varying colored Jewels, the exceptions being Captain America, who was as Ivory as they came, and Thor, whose wings were a stunning and unearthly _gold_. Even as Spider-man Peter hid his wings, not wanting people to judge him as a Gray. Wing covers and bindings had became part of his costume just as much as his everyday life. They'd become part of his mystery and intrigue. It was generally accepted as just another way to hide his identity. Some of them, namely Clint and Tony, teased Peter into showing his wings off, but it never had any more bite to it than the way they teased him about his identity - same tone, same idle pressure. Not too serious but also curious, and underneath it a faint sense of caution and distrust that was typically reserved for those who covered up.

The Avengers, as it turned out, did not pay much better than any other job Peter’d ever had. Sometimes not even at all. So yeah, maybe it was hard to get by on minimum-wage jobs, but Peter made due. It helped that, short of selling his body and other unscrupulous activities, Pete was willing to do practically anything to earn an extra buck. Like, he was literally looking for BABYSITTING jobs at this point. Anything that would work with his schedule. So far, however, he didn’t have any takers. Apparently, no one wanted a _Gray_ to watch their precious babies. Peter had half-expected that, though, since most Grays were seen as unreliable and flighty; ready to flirt off the second someone flashed their wings at them. That wasn't Peter, but he had no way of proving that to a stranger.

~~~~~ 

It was Saturday. It was bitterly cold, and with no heat in his apartment he could feel that chill clear to his bones. Despite all that, Pete was actually pleased because he had what had become their monthly coffee "date" with Harry that afternoon. He was there first, no surprise there, and ordered a small regular coffee, the cheapest one they had which still put him out five bucks, and sat at _their_ table by the window. It was sometime in the middle of sipping slowly on his stupidly expensive cup of coffee that Peter’s phone pinged. It was from that babysitting job site. He actually had a hit? Really? Thank god he hadn’t taken down his application like Ned had suggested.

Peter smiled. Someone was actually reaching out to him about a babysitting gig. Yeah, it may not be glamorous, but with the end of the month coming up, he could really use the money. His current food budget allowed for starvation and not much else. His work for the Bugle paid most of his bills, but it was a constant struggle. This babysitting job would at least keep him fed til next payday. That was, if he got it.

He was in the middle of sending a reply message to WWilson about meeting for an interview when Peter heard the bell above the door ding. He instinctively looked up just as Harry walked in. Harry was an Ivory of the purest kind, because the Osborn’s were a meticulous, and carefully bread family, with the purest stock of genes this side of the Equator. Harry himself was gorgeous and had the wings to match; a fourteen-foot span of pure white. Peter used to wonder how they stayed that way but after years of their close but uncommon friendship, Peter knew first-hand just how much effort Harry put into preening. Shit, Peter preened him, too. Everyone did. How could you resist it? It was a perfectly acceptable social behavior, something to do among close friends. Though, Harry rarely ever get to return the favor, much to his chagrin. Even when he reassured Pete a thousand times that he didn't care if Pete was a Gray, the younger man still kept his wings wrapped and hidden more often than not.

Still, Harry was Pete’s best friend - of his only friends really - and while Peter may not always look forward to these coffee dates because he really couldn't afford five dollars for a cup of joe, he always looked forward to seeing Harry… Even when he was _fashionably late_.

"Pete!" Harry said as the man strolled in with a winsome smile, looking like he owned the place- which he very honestly could. A wing unfurled part way to brush Peter in a greeting, but Peter subtly side-stepped away from the brush of Harry's wing, so it only grazed the air past him; didn’t actually touch him. If Harry noticed when Pete always did that, he never said anything. Pete knew the gesture was just for show anyway, at least on Harry's end. Peter was used to it. Hell, Pete liked the show, he just didn’t like to be touched.

Peter smiled at his best friend when he walked in, as majestic and showy as ever. "Hey Harry. How's it going?" Pete asked with a grin. Their interactions earned several jealous looks, one particularly from a nearby Jewel, and Peter wished, not for the first time, that Harry didn’t always have to be so extra. It would definitely make Peter feel a lot less awkward and unworthy. That was just Harry, though, and Pete couldn’t expect anything less. 

Next to Harry, Peter very much felt like the pauper he was. Harry’s wings were always pristine, and his clothes and make up divine. Even though he could fly, the irony was that he, like most Ivories, simply didn't. Few things dirtied wings quicker than air pollution, after all. Besides, who wanted to do the equivalent of walking everywhere?

Peter walked everywhere, when he wasn’t Spiderman. Then, at best he could occasionally afford some kohl eyes and a little lip stain but that was about it. Oh, and his hair. Pete took great pride in his hair. A lot of dudes would be envious of his natural, messy waves. Still, eating usually took precedence over preening in Pete’s life. So yeah, next to Harry, Pete felt like trash.

"Missed you,” Harry said. “You keeping out of trouble?"

"You know me?" Peter replied a bit flippantly and held up the textbook he had been reading before Harry came in. "I like to live on the edge." He managed a crooked smile before taking another sip of his coffee. "What about you? What's the latest scandal?" Peter never kept up on celebrity gossip, even though he knew his best friend was often a part of it. The millionaire, Ivory, playboy. Not that Pete cared about any of that. Harry was always just Harry to him. Beautiful, extroverted, confident, outgoing Harry.

Between drinks of his own coffee, Harry started in on updating Peter on all the latest drama, much of which involved two girls he fancied. He was still going when both their cups were long empty, and poor Peter was bored to tears, but too polite to say anything. "What about you?” Harry asked, catching Peter a little off guard with the question. Harry almost never stopped talking about himself. “Any luck in the-- _love_ department?"

Pete made an exaggerated 'pfft' noise with his lips and shrugged his shoulders. Between school, struggling to pay his bills, his volunteer work at the Youth Shelter, the soup kitchen, the YMCA, and the whole Spider-Man thing, Pete didn't have time for much else. Maybe he liked it that way, though. Gwen was the last love interest he'd had and her involvement in his life had gotten her killed. Needless to say, Pete wasn't looking. Was he lonely sometimes? Sure. But great powers and great responsibility and all that. He had other priorities.

"No, but I don't really have time for any of that anyway." Pete shrugged again, but there was a small sense of melancholy hanging around him now, which tended to happen whenever he thought about Gwen. He shook his head and animated a moment later, though. "Maybe when I'm done with school and stuff I can--split my focus." He grabbed his and Harry's empty cups and got up to throw them away.

"You'll be an old man by then," Harry groaned teasingly, then laughed as he stood with Peter to get the door, wings rustling a little to smooth his feathers, totally _unnecessarily_.

Peter sighed softly and self consciously adjusted his own wings a little under their fitted coverings. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie a moment later and followed Harry out. "According to most of our society's standards of dating I'm already past my prime, so--" Pete shrugged again and fell in step next to Harry. "What's a few m--" The hairs and feathers all over Peter's body suddenly stood on end, and in a blink he had grabbed Harry by the chest of his shirt, then with a surprising strength pulled them both back against the wall, right as some asshole cyclist, who thought he was too good for the bike lane, came speeding by. The cyclist would have most certainly plowed right into Harry and probably caused some serious injury if Peter hadn't intervened. The cyclist had the audacity to yell back at them to 'Watch out.'

"It's called a side _walk_ for a reason, asshole!" Pete yelled right back. Maybe not his best quip but then most of his best material tended to come out when he was in his Spidersuit. He gave Harry a slightly sheepish expression as he released his friend’s now wrinkled shirt - that may or may not be missing a button or two because of Pete’s haste to get Harry to safety. He'd probably ruffled Harry's feathers a little, too. "Shit, Harry I'm sorry, but can you believe that guy?”

Harry recovered quickly, chuckling dryly to himself as he stood up straight, adjusted his shirt, and smoothed his hands back through his hair, followed by preening his wings a little. Peter helped with that last part. “Sorry,” the younger man said again, feeling a bit anxious and nervous all of a sudden.

“You didn’t do anything worthy of an apology, Peter. Don’t worry so much,” Harry tried to assure him with one of his most winning smiles that drove all the girls and boys wild. All the girls and boys, perhaps, except Peter it seemed. That was part of the reason Harry enjoyed him so much. Pete was an enigma, a mystery that Harry was desperate to solve. Everyone fell for Harry’s foibles, but not Pete.

A black SUV suddenly rolled up along the sidewalk and Harry’s expression lightened as he greeted his driver with a nod. The door was held open for him, and Harry stepped up to it but turned to Peter before climbing in. “Can I give you a lift anywhere, Pete?”

Peter shouldered his backpack and shoved his other hand into his front pocket. “Thanks, Harry, but I’m good. I got my pass. Gonna hit the library before my interview.”

Harry smiled brightly and nodded his understanding. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Harry. Til next time,” Peter said.

“Til next time,” Harry reciprocated, and the two waved a final goodbye.

Peter watched Harry’s SUV drive off a little before he schooled his features and turned to head to the nearest Subway entrance. He really was going to the library, that wasn’t a lie. He didn’t know what the night would hold, so he wanted to get some research in before he was supposed to meet Mr. Wilson.


	2. If You Can't Take the Kid from the Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete meets Wade and Ellie and nothing goes as expected.

Peter hadn't gotten much information from the potential client beforehand, which meant he was open to the possibility that he was going to be murdered instead of working. The place he showed up to was in a nice neighborhood, actually, so then again, maybe not. The guy on the phone had made it sound like this was a job and not an interview, which seemed uncommonly trusting of him, but then this was all a little unusual to Peter. Beggars, as they say, though, couldn't be choosers.

Peter showed up at 7 and rang the bell. He wished he could say things got off to a good start after that, but he'd be lying if he did. The man who opened the door was, well, monster was such a harsh word, but without knowing the story behind it Peter couldn't stop himself from staring at the horribly disfigured man. It was just so unexpected and shocking. Had he been in a fire? Dropped in a vat of acid, Joker style? Like--how had he survived? Most/all of those scars looked severely heinous. Was it just his face, or were they everywhere? Was he in pain? Did they still hurt? It looked like they might still hurt. Knowing how scar tissue worked they probably cracked and pulled all the time, so they probably hurt. Was he sick? Was he dying? He certainly smelled a little like it, maybe.

The man had a sweatshirt on with the hood up, which didn't hide the fact that he was bald and absolutely covered in scars, but Peter could also tell that the form poorly hidden underneath the fabric was well-built. More than that, though, this guy was built like a fucking truck. He had the kind of physique most dudes could only dream about. It was intimidating as hell, but somewhere in the back of Pete's mind his curiosity was piqued. He wanted to know what the man looked like under the sweats... Were the scars everywhere? Ok, maybe Pete was staring because of that too, and his gaze might have traveled down to the crotchal region before shooting back up to his face where, damn, those eyes, and that bone structure... Hot damn, man... Peter could safely bet, could even imagine, that this man had probably been drop dead gorgeous once upon a time, before whatever accident had disfigured him like that.

The last thing Peter noticed was that the man had his wings bound, too, just like him. Had whatever gave him those scars also affected his wings? I mean it made sense if it had. If it was a skin condition, maybe he had no feathers? Was he as flightless as Pete was? Did they at least have that common ground?

In retrospect, Peter thought the man was attractive, in his own way. He wasn't wearing any makeup, nor eyeliner, not that he could wear mascara what with having no eyelashes. Still, that seemed yet another thing they had in common. Most men, like birds, tended to be the ones who gussied themselves up while females often had a bit smaller and more subtle wings. A second thing in common out the gate? Maybe Pete could salvage this somehow.

The man was looking less amused by the second, probably because it took Pete like ten seconds to realize he had been staring as his mind raced through all his thoughts, questions, and hypotheses. The situation was weird, the man was not what Pete was expecting, and maybe if it weren't for the fact that he kept his Spiderman persona so firmly away from his personal life, he might be afraid this was some sort of set up or trap but there was no way this was a Spiderman thing, right? He means, his spider sense was calm as fuck. Not a peep, so he knew there was no danger at least. That was a good sign. 

"Hi," the man greeted sourly.

Annnnnd, holy shit, Pete, you're such an asshole! Great first impression, really. He cleared his throat, blushing crimson, then ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus, I'm--I'm sorry. I'm, umm, I'm Peter. Peter Parker." He took his hand out of his hoodie and extended it to the man to shake. 

"Peter," he repeated as he took Peter's hand in his own. The other man's hand was warm; the scars were textured but soft.

"I brought a list of references if you'd like them," Pete rambled nervously as his other hand came out of his pocket to bring his backpack around, unzip the outside pocket, then reach in to pull out a folded up piece of paper. He promptly unfolded it and offered it to the man with a nervous, crooked smile that still managed to show off his dimples.

The handshake turned into the older man taking the reference list to briefly frown at it like he wasn't sure what exactly to do with it. Just then, a little girl came around the corner. She looked to be around eight or nine, with wide brown eyes and a facial structure much like her father's and - of note for what it could mean about Wade's wings - she was a White-Jewel. The backs of her wings were pure white, while the fronts were also white but flecked with golden browns. It was stunning, really, and pretty much confirmed Pete's suspicions; this man had to have been drop-dead fucking gorgeous once upon a time in order to pass on genes like THAT. Peter could definitely picture it, and even with all the scars there was a certain sort of beautiful tragedy about it.

"Is this him?" The girl asked, trying to sound  
disinterested.

"Hi," Pete smiled upon seeing the young girl, and he waved at her before shouldering his backpack once again.

Wade smiled, looking down at her as he stepped back to let Peter in. "Yes ma'am. Can you go play in your room a little more, Ellie-Belly? Daddy's gotta give Petey a chat."

Pete stepped in at the silent invitation, blanching slightly at the nickname, but feeling too intimidated and polite to say anything. The place was nice, at least. Homey and clearly a shrine for the kid. Judging solely by the pictures of her everywhere, plus all the kid art, and toys of every type, it was obvious Wade absolutely adored the little girl.

This all seemed a little unorthodox as they knew next to nothing about each other, but no bells or whistles were going off in Peter’s head, so he was totally unconcerned. Relaxed, even. Well, as _relaxed_ as much as he could be in a new and potentially awkward environment. When Wade decided to give Peter a small tour and rundown of the place, Peter observed everything as they walked through the house. The girl was obviously the center of this man's world and that made Peter's heart swell a little. Parenting was hard enough when two parties were involved, so Peter had mad respect for single parents. Aunt May was his idol and hero for how well she raised him and how strong she was. He definitely noticed the lack of pictures of the girl when she was a baby or toddler, though, which left Peter to wonder if she had been adopted, or maybe a bad custody battle that the father had just got the rights too? Who knew? Pete had enough tact not to ask about it, though. It was obvious this kid was very well loved and taken care of and that was good enough for him.

Wade lead Peter past a mini-trampoline, a train set, and a doll house(that was really more like a doll mansion), then to the living room, where Wade sat in one of the leather chairs and encouraged Peter to sit in the other.  
Pete took the offer, sitting on the edge of the seat a bit nervously. He looked over at Mr. Wilson and his smile softened slightly but didn't go away. "I am Red-Cross certified in both first aid and CPR, not that--ya know hopefully I won't need to--I mean I'll keep her safe, but ya know in case of _emergency_..." It was a rather heartfelt promise when he vowed to keep her safe. "I'm, umm, also a certified and experienced tutor through my university, so I can--help with any type of homework or school projects, from basic grammar to calculus... I'm also Captain of my robotics team and an Eagle scout. I can prepare meals, and clean, and other things, if necessary." Pete was helplessly word vomiting at this point, feeling all kinds of nervous for some reason. He knew most babysitting gigs didn't pay a lot but even the measly $10 an hour would help feed him for a couple days.

When Wade didn’t respond, nor did he seem like he was going to interrupt anytime soon, Peter continued rambling nervously. "Uh, does she have any allergies or dietary restrictions or anything I should know about? And I'm sorry, but I--can't remember your name." Had the man ever even given Peter his name? He couldn't seem to remember now and didn't wanna rudely whip his phone out to check his messages.

"I'm Wade, that's Ellie," Wade paused, some of his confidence seemed to have waned at the end of Pete's word babble. It was almost like he'd never had to hire a sitter before. "You got a cell phone?" Wade asked. Pete nodded and pulled out his phone. "Put this number in," Wade said then rattled off his digits for Peter to save in his contacts, which he did under 'Wade - Ellie's dad' in case anyone was wondering.

"Bed time's at 8," Wade continued.

Pete took mental notes of everything Wade told him about Ellie's nighttime routine. "Bed at 8. Got it." And since Wade didn't say anything about Pete's question about allergies, Pete assumed she had none. 

"She's already eaten, but if you're hungry you can help yourself to leftover pizza," Wade continued relaying instructions. "I'll probably be back around one or two. WiFi password's on the fridge." Which was perfect for Peter, he could actually get some homework done. "You can do pretty much anything until then. Just don't jack off too much. I've got surveillance everywhere." It wasn't a joke. There was something sharp in the man's eyes that clearly said 'danger'.

Peter was blushing and he swallowed hard at both of those last bits. He didn't know the man well enough to know if he was joking or being serious. Well, that last bit was super serious. The man had a deadly look in his eyes that Peter could recognize for what it was.

"I--I would never--" Peter rarely even did that kind of thing at home let alone someone else's house where a kid lived.

"You seem nice. I'd hate to have to skin you," Wade finished, standing.

Was Wade joking? He had to be joking. Skin him? As in like cut off his skin? Holy shit. This guy was a scary dad, but maybe he was just one of those overprotective types? I mean Ellie did seem very, _very_ important to him. Peter hated to think what all her future suitors or love interests were going to have to go through. He sensed lots of shotgun and shovel speeches in her future, which kind of made Pete smile in a weird way. Obviously, he wasn't joking about the surveillance because nanny cams were totally a thing and Pete had nothing to hide; nothing to be ashamed or afraid of. Truth be told, the obvious threat in the man's eyes, the look of danger Pete was familiar with because of Spiderman, was something he took very seriously.

Masturbation jokes aside, this seemed rather easy considering it looked like Wade didn't have any other questions for him. I mean, if he'd gotten Pete's info from that Care.com site, Pete had a lot of his basic background stuff there so maybe that had been enough for the man. Hey, Pete wasn't complaining. This could be a cushy gig.

Pete fish-mouthed a little after that last bit, but he speedily found something to change the subject. "So, uh, Ellie. What's your favorite movie?"

Ellie had been in the doorway watching the entire interaction. "Jurassic Park," was her answer, which seemed age appropriate...

"Atta girl," Wade said as he moved in to kiss her on the top of her head.

The remark about Jurassic Park definitely made Pete grin. So she loved dinosaurs? 'Atta girl' was right. Pete removed his backpack and set it on the floor then turned to look at Ellie. "That's so cool. You like the new ones or the old ones? Or both?"

"Both," Ellie replied.

"I'm running late," Wade said as he grabbed a huge duffle bag and moved towards the door. "Call if there's any issues."

Pete watched Wade go, standing from the couch after him to kind of follow him out, ya know so he could make sure the door was locked behind him and everything. 

"Five hundred for the night work?" Wade asked.

Pete had nodded about calling and stuff but when the words five and hundred came out of Wade's mouth, he was stunned. Like, literally stunned. "Five... hundred? Like dollars?" Pete's brows pinched in the center. That was like a hundred per hour. "That's--I mean that's--way more than I was expecting, that's--umm--" That was too much... unless Ellie was secretly a Hellion and that was Wade's way of compensating for that but... Pete glanced back at Ellie and smiled. For some reason he didn't think that was the case. Maybe the man just didn't know how much to pay a sitter? "Not like I'm--performing rocket science or anything, ya know? Which, I mean I can do that, but..." _Shut up, Pete._ He reached a hand up and scratched his fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his head. "Most parents just--slip me a fifty or something at the end of the night."

Wade dismissed the whole money issue with a flap of his hand. "You're looking after my angel."

"Are you done yet?" Ellie's young voice demanded, making a huge grin form on Wade's face.

"She's a handful," the older man said. "Good luck!"

"Am not," she argued. She had her wings held half-open carelessly. She really did look like an angel. Some people preferred White-Jewels, their colorings more exotic than just Ivory. 

"Do I get a hug goodbye or are you just gonna argue with me all night?" Wade asked as he adjusted the strap of the large bag over his shoulder. Ellie rolled her eyes but went to hug him back. "Love you," Wade said to Ellie, and then he was out the door.

Peter grinned at the exchange between the two and watched Wade leave, closing the door behind him. That was rather abrupt and he was still kind of reeling from it all when he heard Ellie's voice again.

"Do you wanna see my room?" Ellie asked as she cocked her head to look Peter over curiously.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Pete said. "You can show me all your favorite things."

Ellie's room looked like Wade had gone to a toy store and then bought it. It was absolutely packed with every type of toy and stuffy imaginable. Ellie dragged Peter to the doll "area", which was really just like the whole room, and started to explain things. Apparently, they did not just play dolls in this house. Each doll had a soap opera-scale backstory and history, which was only added onto with each play. Once Peter had learned the intense drama of the massive doll city, he was assigned some roles with the expectation that he'd be contributing to the on-going tale. 

Throughout the night, Peter discovered that while Ellie was a little demanding, she was also excitable, funny, bright, clever, and spoiled in a more traditional way that had less to do with wing color, and more to do with the fact that Wade spoiled her. She hadn't asked about Peter's wings yet, and the dolls, more importantly, had all different wing colors. There were even a few raven-winged dolls;one who worked in a cemetery, of course, and another who was named Anna. When Ellie saw Peter looking at Anna, Ellie informed him that she was misunderstood and very lonely before she launched into Anna's long backstory, which included lots of betrayals and a whole feud with some 'bitch' named Jenny.

"Language," Peter had cautioned her, to which she had just rolled her eyes.

It was all amazing, in Peter's opinion. He had never seen so many dolls in his life,bbut more importantly, never seen a doll city so intricate and well thought out before. Pete listened to her tale about Anna and Jenny and he picked up both dolls. "You know what I think?... I think Anna and Jenny may be secretly in love with each other, but because of the circumstances in their lives they don't trust easily. So it's easier for both of them to resort to anger and hate, but if only they would learn to get over themselves and get out of their own ways, they could be so happy." Ok, maybe Pete had a tiny flare for the dramatic as well. He watched Ellie carefully for her reaction. Would she hate it and think he was lame for even suggesting such an idea?

Ellie didn't immediately accept his story. Instead she weighed it in her mind for a moment as if she were judging it for truthfulness. Eventually, though, she nodded a very serious nod. "Like pulling on someone's hair 'cause of a crush."

Pete grinned. " _Exactly_ like pulling on someone's hair because of a crush." He smiled at the girl. "Has someone been pulling on your hair, Ellie?" He teased playfully, expecting her to deny it. Which she did.

They played dolls for as long as Ellie was entertained, and when she was done, Pete invited her to play a board game he'd brought with him called Sequence. It was one of those 'intelligent' board games, because it was Pete we were talking about here. It was playable with only two people, but it required strategy and planning. Pete explained the rules and after a few practice rounds Ellie caught on very quickly. Too quickly maybe. She eventually blew him out of the water. Pete was delightfully surprised by how intelligent the little girl was. Pete thought she was awesome.

When Peter saw Ellie yawn, which made him look at his watch, he realized he'd kept her up almost two hours past her bedtime it was 10pm. "Oh, crap," he said. Her dad was gonna murder him.

Quickly, he got her up and stepped out of the room so she could get dressed for bed. Then, there was face washing and teeth brushing, before climbing into bed. Ellie asked for a bedtime story but instead of choosing a favorite book when Pete asked which one, Ellie just asked him to make one up. So he did. Peter told a story that was really just one of his adventures with the Avengers with the names and powers switched around. Ellie seemed to really enjoy it and she fell asleep somewhere in the middle. Pete smiled as he turned off the light and went back to the living room.

After cleaning up their game, and some other light cleaning around the living room, dining room, and kitchen, Pete raided the fridge for a couple slices of that pizza Wade had been talking about. He didn't reheat it; Cold pizza was the best. Even though he definitely could have easily put away the entire pie and then some, he only took two slices because his manners wouldn't allow otherwise. He then settled down in the living room with his textbooks and laptop and got to work on school stuff.

He might have ended up passing out around 1am-ish with his computer opened to an unfinished essay on his laptop, a thick textbook in his lap, and his head bent back over the backrest of the couch in what had to be an uncomfortable angle; his mouth was slightly open and he was drooling a little. He may have gone back for seconds and even thirds on the pizza because when he was in full blown study mode, his sense of decorum may or may not just go out the window.

When Pete woke it was to a warm hand on his shoulder, just a touch meant to rouse him. When he opened his eyes, Wade was standing there smiling down at him. "Looks like I've got two sleeping beauties," he said.

Peter hadn't been "gently woken up" by someone else since before the spider bite. His new senses prevented most surprises from happening to him, so for it to happen now, in another man's house by the very same man who owned it, was a bit surprising. More than a bit. His spidey-sense hadn't roused him at all. How was that even possible?

All Pete really noticed at first were those bright, _bright_ baby blues, then that smile. Pete smiled back at first, like coming out of some lucid dream, but then his brain caught on to the rest. The scars. The fact that he was in someone else's house, on someone else's couch. He suddenly startled forward, making a small pained noise as he pulled at the crick in his neck. "I'm sorry, I must've--" he scrubbed his face and rubbed his eyes with his hands, then wiped the side of his mouth on the sleeve of his hoodie. "--dozed off." Probably because he wasn't used to having a full stomach and being in such a warm house. His apartment was always freezing in the winter, boiling in the summer, and his stomach was almost always growling with hunger pains for a decent meal. To be warm and full was a rare thing for him. His body had only done what's natural with that.

It eventually caught up to him that Wade had called him a sleeping beauty and Pete could feel himself blushing. He started packing up his notes and books to distract himself. "I, umm, we were playing dolls and a board game I brought, which she wiped the floor with me on, but anyway. I kinda lost track of time, so she didn't actually go to bed til around 10. I'm sorry." He gave Wade a brief but sheepish expression before going back to packing his things via shoving them into his backback. The man said he had surveillance everywhere so he was gonna find out anyway, right? Peter probably would have come clean anyway even if he didn't. He didn't like to lie.

Wade watched Peter babble with an amused expression, waiting for him to finish before he said, "It's fine. I'm surprised you got her to bed at all. She gets into those dolls." It was said with a chuckle.

Pete smiled and glanced in the direction of Ellie's room. The kid had already gotten under his skin after one night. "Yeah, she really does. It was kind of epic."

Wade nodded to the laptop. "Get your work done?"

Pete turned that smile on Wade for a moment when the man asked about his work. "Most of it yeah. More than I would have gotten done at the library anyway." He closed his laptop and that went in his backpack with everything else, though it had a padded compartment special for it. "How did work go?" He asked conversationally, but genuinely curious. He wondered what Wade did for a living that kept such odd hours.

"Poorly,” Wade responded to the work question. “Wouldn't mind it if you showed up again tomorrow. Well, tonight now, I guess.” Wade chuckled, then handed out a wad of cash. There was one extra hundred in it more than he'd promised.

Peter didn't think he had ever seen so much cash at once before. He seemed reluctant at first to take it, but then he also didn't wanna be rude. He'd told the guy how much he usually got paid and well, he means, Peter wasn't gonna complain, even if he'd probably feel really guilty about it later. He took the cash and slipped it into his pocket without counting it, then thought about the man's request. Another night of babysitting this really cool kid in a nice house, where he could get some solid work done on his research project... He tried to think if he had anything going on that night... Other than school, he had nothing.

“I, um, I have a lab at 3 and study group at 4 but I should be free after 6?" he said. That was provided nothing Spiderman related came up, though.

"Perfect,” Wade responded with a smile. “Come by then, baby boy!” He chuckled, holding the door open for Peter.

Pete's brow furrowed a little. Baby boy? Maybe this guy was just one of those dads that called everyone younger than him by petnames? Pete was a little confused, but not really offended or anything, some people just liked petnames. Aunt May called everyone sweetheart. So he didn't really make a big deal out of it. "Uh, ok. Cool." He hoisted his backpack on his shoulder and moved to the open door. "I'll see you guys tomorrow then, around 6." He gave Wade a wave of his hand. "Tell Ellie I said goodbye and good morning.” Wade nodded in agreement. “Seeya, Wade."

“G’night, baby boy,” Wade said with a wave then closed the door behind him.

Peter shook his head, huffing dryly in amusement at the nickname, but he was grinning all the way home. He was actually gonna be able to pay his rent on time this month.


	3. The Anaesthetic Never Set In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter spends more time with Wade and Ellie... Finds out Deadpools back... Team up to kill some zombies... Then back to life...

The next week passed as expected. Nothing out of the ordinary or unexpected happened. He went to school. Did his labs, and his study groups, checked the scanner for any chatter that may need Spidey’s attention. He watched Ellie like every other night. Got to know her and Wade really well, and was very happy about it. It started to feel less like babysitting, and more like hanging out with friends or family. He’d tried to talk Wade into not paying him so much because it made Peter feel guilty, but the man wouldn’t hear it. Peter had stopped arguing about it and just accepted that this was what Wade wanted.

The problem of course with taking these night babysitting jobs was that they didn't leave much room for Spider-man on those nights, and the problem with that was that Deadpool was back. Peter knew the Merc from a few run-ins in the past, and was distinctly displeased to have heard through the grapevine that it sounded like he'd moved in. In the past, Deadpool took hits all around the world, but he'd been showing up over the last few weeks exclusively in New York, despite Peter's past reminder that he should stay the shit out of his city, so that was fun.

So, Peter kept an eye and an ear out, but he didn't run into the mercenary until almost a week later, when the Avengers had called an all-hands for all supers in the city to deal with an influx of zombies of all things. Deadpool had, unfortunately, been included in that call. Peter had been super stressed about cancelling babysitting that night, but after coming up with a semi-believable lie, Wade had seemed to understand.

The fight had been insane. Normally, Pete's moral compass was firmly pointed in the direction of no killing, but these were ZOMBIES they were dealing with. Real-life swear to god Zombies. The walking dead. In their city. Deadpool's variety of slicing and dicing might actually be the only way to stop them. Surprisingly, the two of them actually worked very well together once Iron Man had paired them up and Pete started funneling the undead into the Mercenary’s killzone. Eventually, Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner had figured out how to stop the wizard that was responsible, and the Zombies just disappeared. Back from whence they came. Had it all just been some weird trick?

Peter had been thoroughly exhausted by the end of it. So much so that he may not have noticed or paid any particular care or attention to the Merc when he saluted a “Seeya round, baby boy,” before he’d disappeared. Peter had even forgotten to give the man his customary ‘stay out of my city or else’ speech.

Pete was invited back to Avengers tower where he reveled with the team for a while, accepted their barbs and jabs about his mask, and his wings, ate their food, then left. Thank God it was Sunday the next day, though. That meant no labs, no study groups. Pete could sleep all day if he wanted to…

He’d actually managed a solid five hours of shut eye before his phone had gone off. Pete groaned as he blindly reached for it, swiped accept, then put it against his ear. “‘Lo?”

“Baby boy!” Wade’s voice sounded enthusiastically over the line.

Peter grinned and rolled over to scrub his hand over his face. “Hey Wade. What’s up?”

“How was the party?” he asked, causing Pete's brain to short circuit a little.

“Party?” He asked, but then remembered the excuse he’d given for bailing. “Oh, right. The party. Uh, yeah. It was--ok, I guess. I might have overdone it a little, but it was--fun.” And thinking back on the battle, the banter, the excitement, the flirting, it kind of had been fun, even with all the danger.

“Good. I’m glad. You deserved a night out for fun and frivolity,” Wade said. “You hungover?”

Peter shook his head, then realized Wade couldn’t see him. “Nah. I’m good. A little tired, but not hungover.”

Peter heard Wade clicking his teeth. “Disappointing. Must not have been that great of a party.”

Peter grinned and chuckled softly. “Yeah. I guess. I mean, most of the attendees were pretty dumb. Like hanging out with a bunch of mindless zombies.” He didn’t see any harm in using that little metaphor. It wasn’t like Wade knew Pete had been up fighting zombies all night.

“Speaking of Zombies, did you hear about that demented warlock downtown?”

Pete’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, but he kept his voice as calm as he could. “Uh, no. I’ve been asleep all day. What--uh--what happened? How does that have to do with zombies?”

“Only that he raised a whole army of them and was trying to take over the city, silly. The Avengers came and everything. Spidey was even there,” Wade had a dreamy tone in his voice and he sighed all wistfully. “You should really get a TV, baby boy. You miss the best news.”

Peter blushed at the dreamy tone, feeling kind of awkward and weird knowing Wade had a crush on his alter-ego. “Well, I’m sorry I missed it. Sounds like a helluva better time than a drunken college mixer.”

“Don’t worry. We can catch the repeats tonight, that is--if you feel up to watching Ellie tonight? Or do you already have plans?”

Peter smiled and shook his head. “No. No plans. I’d love to. What time?”

“Five, ok?” Wade asked. “I need to head out a little early tonight.”

Peter nodded, which again Wade couldn’t see. “Five is fine. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, baby boy. Don’t eat before you come!” Wade ordered.

“Ok?” Peter said, chuckling again.

“Seeya tonight!”

“Seeya,” Peter repeated before they both ended the call.

Peter laid there in his bed for a spell, grinning and chuckling to himself like an idiot. He eventually shook his head and got out of bed to get ready for the night. He unbound his wings and gave them a much-needed stretch before he took a long shower that he had neglected to take the night before because he’d been so exhausted. After his shower, he dried and styled his hair with some coconut oil. No gels or icky products for him. His ear length waves were finger-combing smooth and touchably soft. He gave his wings a good, long, much needed stretch and even preened them as they air dried. While his wings aired out, he went about collecting what he was gonna bring for the night at Wade's. He made sure his backpack had everything he needed, before he meticulously picked out his outfit; a pair of fitted jeans, his favorite black henley t-shirt, with a blue and purple flannel to go over that.

It wasn’t until he was sure he had everything he needed that Pete finally stepped in front of his mirror and went through the tedious, time-consuming task of binding and covering his wings back up. When he was finished with that, he got dressed, put on some shoes, then grabbed his pack before he was out the door.

A couple subway stops, a bus stop or two, and 45 minutes later Pete was knocking on the Wilsons' door. Wade promptly answered with a grin. His wings were still bound like normal, but he was wearing a dress shirt tonight that accented his eyes. Seeing Wade's face and all his scars wasn't surprising to Peter anymore. He was used to it now, so he didn't spend any time staring or anything like the first time they met. He’d only babysat a handful of times since then, but he'd already acclimated. In fact, Pete couldn’t help but think that Wade actually looked rather good tonight, what with the way that dress shirt hugged his muscles in all the right ways and made his eyes look even bluer than normal.

"Petey, you made it,” Wade greeted and actually pulled the younger man in for a hug, which Peter continually surprised even himself by not immediately jerking away from. He might even comfortably be able to say he returned it. Guess there was a first time for everything. “C'mon in," Wade invited as he stepped back.

"Thanks," Pete responded with a bright smile and a wave as he stepped inside. "My Aunt May made me way too many cookies in my last care package, so I brought some to share." He held up a large ziplock bag full of homemade chocolate chip cookies. It was never too many, really. Typically any food items May sent him barely lasted a day, but he'd felt like sharing with his favorite new family so he'd asked her to make extra. Maybe he was sucking up a little for eating all their food all the time, but Peter was also excited to share something personal, which may or may not be why his mind completely glossed over the fact that Wade had called him 'Petey' again for the hundredth time.

Pete set his backpack down by the door and unzipped his hoodie. "Where's Ellie?" He may have brought something for her, too.

In answer to Pete’s question, Ellie came barreling out of her room but then skidded to a stop to play it totally cool, not excited at all obviously. "Hi,” she greeted with a wave.

Wade smothered a smile, waving to the counter for the cookies. Dinner smelled good, some sort of chicken dish. "You're just in time," Wade said as he returned to the kitchen.

Pete’s grin widened upon seeing the girl and he set the cookies on the counter when prompted. He then slipped out of his jacket, gently pulling his wings through, before he hung it up on the hook by the door. "I brought you something for your Dolltropolis, but after dinner, ok?"

Whatever Wade had cooked smelled really good and Pete’s stomach took that moment to remind him he hadn't had anything to eat except junk food since lunch with May, but that had been around noon. He assumed this was some kind of an open invite to dinner, though, wasn’t it? I mean, Wade knew he was gonna be here, and he'd told Pete he was right on time, and that he shouldn’t have eaten before. So unless Wade was gonna be a dick and make Pete watch them eat, Pete had translated all of that to 'Invite to dinner.'

It was unexpected but not unwelcome. Especially as he hadn't been grocery shopping yet. Most of the cash Wade had been giving him he had been running around paying rent, electricity, gas, and cell phone bills. The largest chunk, though, had gone towards Spiderman. There were some things Pete had been eyeballing for forever; he needed spare parts for his suit, and the chemicals he needed to make his webbing were not cheap, dude. So, he’d stocked up. He had enough leftover for some basic groceries, he just hadn’t had the time. Not like he knew how to cook anyway? Breakfast cereal, ramen, and cheesy mac were his go-to food staples.

"That smells really good," Pete said sincerely, peeking around to try and see what Wade was cooking.

It made Wade smile and in that moment Pete caught himself staring, but not like the first time they’d met. It had been harder and harder to ignore that he thought Wade really was attractive in an odd, unique way. Once you got used to the shock of his skin, which seemed more irritated today than usual, underneath those scars were clearly defined muscles, a perfect bone structure, beautiful blue eyes, and a gorgeous smile with near-perfect teeth. He had an attractive rumble in his voice, too, and carried himself with a confidence that was magnetic. Peter couldn't help but think that everything about Wade was kind of beautiful; even the quirky personality, and the pet names were endearing.

Pete never could forget that Wade was also dangerous, though. Peter had been around a lot of skilled fighters since the bite, and he could tell Wade was among them. He had suspected the man might be a vet since the first night they met. He had definitely noticed the way Wade carried himself, that look in his eyes. He was definitely former military or something. Maybe currently in the military, even, who knew? Was that how he'd gotten those scars, in combat maybe? He had to maintain that muscle tone for a reason? He didn't seem like the vain, and showy bodybuilder type. No those muscles had a purpose. A use. God now Pete was thinking about Wade's muscles and what they could be used for. Look, Pete had come to the realization a long time ago that he liked both women and men, he wasn't ashamed about that, just maybe it wasn't the best idea to start thinking about _Wade_ like that. That was some trashy porno waiting to happen. The DILF and the babysitter. God.

"Can I help with anything?” Pete asked when he realized he’d been staring. “Don't wanna brag, but I set a mean table." He breathed on his nails and feigned polishing them on his shirt.

"Please,” Wade said with a dry chuckle. “Plates are there." He pointed to the cabinet with the plates.

Pete used setting the table to steer his mind away from his thoughts. Ellie decides to helo, and the two of them chatted nonsensically as they did. Peter may have deliberately set the silverware wrong, just because it was so damn adorable to watch and listen to Ellie set him straight.

Pretty soon they were all seated and digging into their meal, which turned out to be real chicken parmesan with noodles, and garlic knots. "This is--really good, Wade. Thank you,” Pete remarked after a few bites in. Peter had only ever head the poor-man's chicken parmesan, which was basically just spaghetti with breaded chicken patties and cheese.

It was almost domestic the way they were all sitting and having a sort of family dinner together. Pete had never been here for dinner before. Sure, he’d enjoyed leftovers after the fact, but never actually sat down to eat with them. It was… really nice; made Pete feel all warm on the inside and brought a smile to his face; reminded him of Sunday evenings with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. 

Wade eventually turned his attention from Ellie to Peter. "So, you’ve never told me, baby boy, what are you going to school for?"

That nickname again. It tickled something in the back of his mind, and behind his belly button. It made Pete wonder, not for the first time, how much older Wade could be from him. Maybe it was life experience talking, but Pete couldn't believe Wade was that much older than him. Maybe 27, 28 by the look of him, so the baby boy nickname seemed kind of odd to Peter’s ears. Why that particular pet name? It made him feel silly, but also kind of giggly and loopy inside. "I, uh,” he started to say, then cleared his throat. “I'm working towards my masters in Science and Chemistry, actually. Hoping to teach some day or something like that." He was still undecided about career choices after college but that was definitely where he was leaning. "What about you? Uh, what do you--do for work?" He couldn't believe they'd never really had this conversation before.

"Security," Wade answered in that breezy tone that said it was not true and he didn't want to go into depth. So like, maybe he was a drug dealer? Maybe? Peter liked to believe the good in people, though. Drug dealer was a pretty awful assumption considering there were so many other things the man could be, and you know what happens when people ASSUME. So... maybe he was a drug dealer, but it was also just as likely he could be some military super spy or covert operative or something like thag. That was far more exciting to think about, in Peter's opinion. If Pete was gonna assume anything, he was probably gonna assume that. It was more fun.

Ellie swiftly brought the attention back to herself as she started in about school, with Wade prompting her periodically. It really was quite domestic. A content, warm feeling settled in Peter's stomach and stayed there even after dinner ended and they were all cleaning up.

Once the older man was ready to go, same black duffle bag over his shoulder, he turned to acknowledge Peter. "All set then?"

Pete nodded, walking Wade to the door again. "Yeah. All set. Good luck and uh... be careful."

Wade gave him a wink and a wave as he left. Pete closed and locked the door behind him, and Ellie immediately started in about the surprise Pete had promised her after dinner. Peter grinned and brought his backpack with him as they went to her room to play with her dolls. Once they were sitting, Pete began pulling out action figures, one by one, until almost every Avenger that existed was standing before them in action poses. "I noticed you didn't have some of these, and they were just kind of sitting in my old room collecting dust." Some of them were expensive collector's editions but Pete didn't care. It was like Toy Story in his mind. Toys needed to be played with.

Ellie was ecstatic and they spent the next couple hours going on Avenger adventures together. As usual, they lost track of time but Pete had managed to get Ellie in bed by ten o'clock. After that, he did some dishes and other light cleaning, got a soda and some snacks before settling down for another night of research and study.

His project was done for the most part, he was just fine-combing it, so it didn't take long for Pete's curiosity about Wade to pique. After a couple Google Search's and a little trip down the rabbit hole of the internet, Pete had learned that Wade Wilson was indeed former military and he had an outstanding service record. Impressive even. There was even a picture of him, before the scars, and Pete's suspicions had been right on the money. Before his scars the man had been positively _gorgeous_. Like, Hollywood heartthrob gorgeous. Pete knew it was the same man because that jawline and those eyes were _unmistakable_. 

According to what he had found in public service records, Wade had been discharged from the military before he went into special ops, and that's where the Google search had ended. Peter could have probably gone around stretching his hacking skills on the deep web, but he was more than content with what he'd found the legal way. He might not believe Wade's job was as simple as 'Security' but he was also 99.9% sure that whatever Wade did for work had to be military related or something of that nature.

The Google search had also confirmed the man's wing color: Ivory, pure as they could get. It was an easy stretch to assume, after whatever accident happened, Wade covered his wings out of embarrassment. Going from an Ivory to lower than a Gray was a _huge_ drop in social standing. Considering Pete’s real color was the lowest of the low in their society's standing, lower than a Gray himself, he could definitely empathize and relate with the man. They had that in common.

Curiosity sated for now, and with his part of his project paper done, Peter settled in with his earbuds and Harry’s shared Netflix account. Peter hadn’t passed out on Wade's couch again since that first night, and he had hoped an action thriller would help him stay awake, but he was too warm, too cozy, and his stomach felt fuller than it had in years. He was utterly helpless when less than halfway through the movie, he fell asleep. So much for thrilling heroics. He was out cold, just like the first night, only this time he'd ended up fully sprawled out on the couch, on his stomach, drooling onto the sleeve of his shirt.

Pete slept through the night and didn’t wake until the next morning, to the smell of pancakes and the warmth of a blanket draped over him. The smell of breakfast pulled him pleasantly from his dreams and he might have snuggled into the blanket a little as his mind caught up to reality. It was bright, meaning it was morning. He was still at Wade's, he recognized the couch and the decor, and he had a blanket over him that he hadn't fallen asleep with. Wade was cooking breakfast so that meant the man hadn't woken him up when he’d gotten home earlier. He also had to be the one to have given Pete the blanket. That made Pete's heart melt and his stomach's butterflies might have palpitated a little.

Wade didn't have to do that. Didn't have to do any of this. Didn’t have to feed him dinner. Didn’t have to let this young kid crash on his couch. He did feed him dinner, though. He _did_ let Pete crash on his couch. Peter didn’t know how to thank him. He seemed to never get a full, contented night’s rest these days. He couldn’t explain it but it was like when he was here all he wanted to do was relax. Like, here, he felt safe. Oh boy, what did that mean?

Pete stretched as he got up, long and languorous like a cat, then cracked his neck a little before he folded the blanket and he made his way to the bathroom. He relieved himself, washed his hands, then splashed some water on his face and cleaned off the crusties on the sides of his mouth, and the ones in his eyes. He combed his fingers through the unruly mop of curls on top of his head, trying to tame it into some semblance of order. It kind of worked. He checked his breath, and decided to gargle with a little bit of mouthwash.

When Pete emerged from the bathroom he padded on socked feet to the kitchen. He didn't remember taking off his shoes last night, which was another enigma. Had he kicked them off in his sleep, or had Wade taken them off for him? When Peter happened by a clock, he realized it was far later than he'd been expecting - nearly 9:30 AM. Ellie was nowhere to be seen, and Wade was in the kitchen, in the merry middle of making what appeared to be enough pancakes to feed half of the United States Army. A veritable tower of them rose from the platter where he was plating them, and even as Peter came in he saw the older man skillfully flip four more, one-by-one from the griddle to the tower.

"Good morning," Pete said a little awkwardly as he kind of leaned on the back of one of the bar chairs.

Wade glanced up and smiled. "Morning, Princess,” he said as he ladled out four new pancakes with a casual ease, clearly at home in the kitchen even though he really didn't look like he ought to belong.

Pete’s mouth lifted slightly at one corner in a sort of crooked smirk. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Princess? Really?" Aunt May did keep telling him to get a haircut, but he liked his unruly mop. It was his thing, his ONLY thing, but his fingers might have started combing through his hair a little self-consciously. Still, he blushed at the Princess comment. "Thanks for the umm--" Pete gestured back towards the couch, silently referencing the blanket. "I didn't mean to pass out on your couch... again. I gotta--stop doing that." He nervously scratched at the back of his head.

"Ah ah, apology rejected!" Wade reached out with his free hand across the counter to boop Peter's nose, actually saying "Boop" as he did it. "Growing boys need their beauty sleep."

Pete didn't flinch when Wade literally booped him on the nose, where with any other person Pete would have leaned away from the touch before it had even happened. Another oddity he didn’t feel like examining at the moment. Pete had learned in a very short time, that Wade was weird as fuck, but then it kind of just added to his appeal. It was refreshing and kind of adorable. To meet someone who just seemed to have zero fucks to give about anything. It was... endearing. Pete was endeared.

Then again, if Pete had been through whatever horrors Wade had been through, he might not care so much about all the 'little', meaningless, trivial stuff either. Unfortunately, he was just a 23 year old college student, with crippling student loan debt, a laughably non-existent social life, and a deep dark secret or two he was terrified every minute of every day of coming out. Meeting and getting to know Wade and Ellie had felt like the first real friends Pete had made in a long time outside of Aunt May and Harry, and the Avengers maybe(but they only knew him as Spiderman so they didn't really count). It was insane how in such a short time the Wilsons had already grown on him. Or he on them or however one wants to put it.

Pete seemed to just take in what Wade was cooking and he blinked. That was a helluva lot of pancakes, and Pete might have taken a moment to admire the man's flipping skills. It was actually rather impressive. Not to mention every time he moved his arms it made his shirt constrict over all that muscle in the most delightful of ways. Scars or no scars, Wade took really good care of himself. Shit he was staring again. "Are you--" Pete's voice actually cracked like some pubescing teenager. How embarrassing. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You planning on feeding a small country?" He asked. Or maybe Wade had company coming over. "I can skedaddle if you've got people coming over."

Wade shook his head. "I got carried away with the batter!" he said enthusiastically. Wade didn't bother to mention that he'd noticed Peter seemed to want to eat more than what he usually did. It was like he was holding back, and Wade honestly wanted to test out a theory. "We'll just have to eat until we pop. I'll squeeze you out afterwards, like Violet Beauregarde."

"Violet who?" He asked with a furrowed brow. He recognized the name but it took his brain a hot minute to catch up. "Oh!" He snapped his fingers. "From that old Willy Wonka movie. Right. Wait--which version?"

The last four pancakes were added to the stack. Wade then spun around the kitchen to grab two plates (just two), then proper, _real Canadian_ maple syrup, and forks and coffee mugs and orange juice.

Pete helped grab a couple plates and utensils and when they were seated, he loaded his plate up with a stack of at least four pancakes to start, he didn't wanna be a pig, four seemed like a good number to start without looking like an asshole. Wade always seemed so happy and eager to feed him, and Pete definitely did not eat well when left to his own vices. He means, Wade worked so hard to cook all this food, the proper, polite thing to do would be to enjoy it right? How rude would it be to refuse something Wade had worked to make FOR him? He might feel a little guilty about it still, but that part of him was being slowly worn away. Wade didn't seem put out at all. If he did, in any fashion, Pete would be sure to vamoose.

He smeared each flapjack with some butter and the stack got a healthy dousing of maple syrup before he made his first incision and took a bite. He made an almost vulgar sound of delight and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. He cut and ate a second bite before speaking with a partially full mouth. "Don't tell Aunt May I said this," he half covered his mouth with his hand, because manners. "--but these are probably some of the best pancakes I have ever had." They were fluffy and light and he could taste buttermilk, and vanilla. Yumm.

“So, were you raised by your Aunt May?” Wade asked as he watched Peter eat.

Pete nodded. “Yeah. My parents died when I was six, though Aunt May and Uncle Ben had been taking care of me off and on long before that.” The admission seemed to surprise even himself. He didn’t often talk about this to a lot of people. Harry knew a little. Ned knew a little too, but Pete had known them for years. He’d just met Wade a week ago. “They were away on work a lot. I don’t remember them much, honestly,” Pete finished that thought and shoved another forkful of pancake into his mouth.

“Your Aunt and Uncle sound like good people,” Wade said sincerely.

“They’re the best. Or--were the best. I mean Aunt May is still amazing, super strong and independent, but--my uncle was killed a couple years back.” God, it was like he had zero verbal filter around Wade. If he didn’t like to talk about his parents, he sure as shit hated talking about Uncle Ben. It always made him sad and that guilty, sinking feeling of regret and remorse didn’t usually take long to settle low in his gut.

“I’d love to meet your Aunt sometime,” Wade tried to distract him as if he could sense Pete’s discomfort. “I bet she’s a real hellcat.”

It worked. Peter grinned crookedly and finished chewing and swallowing his food before nodding enthusiastically. “Oh, she is. Super sassy one moment, but then totally proper and prim the next. Whiskey in a teacup, my uncle used to call her.” Pete donned a wide, affectionate grin as the guilt slowly slipping away to be replaced by something happy and warm.

They chatted animatedly over pancakes. Wade seemed honestly engaged, even when Peter went off on science tangents or other brainy topics that most of his friends tended to zone out on. Even Ned sometimes. Peter never got to talk this much with his friends. Wade even asked prompting questions where necessary, proving that not only was he listening to Peter but that he was actually understanding what he was saying. Which menat that Wade was not only a military man, but he had an intelligent mind of his own.

Pete stuck with the milk to drink, and Wade deliberately distracted him with conversations about school, his hobbies, his project, and his "Aunt May". Every time Pete's plate wound up empty, Wade would just ask another distracting question, then slide a few more pancakes onto Pete’s plate. Pete never disappointed, when the younger man just dug into what he was given like it had always been there. Pete ended up surpassing Wade's wildest expectations when over an hour and two dozen pancakes later, the younger man finally put his fork down.

Pete grabbed his napkin off his lap and wiped his fingers and his mouth before he burped, which he covered with the hand holding said napkin. "Excuse me,” he said a bit sheepishly as he reached for his milk to take a drink.

“Gazundheit,” Wade said jokingly, grinning happily.

It was at that moment, that Peter realized how badly he had depleted the tower of pancakes. There were only a couple left and he knew Wade hadn't eaten them all. He had. "I, uh--don't think I could eat another bite,” he said, blushing.

“You sure?” Wade prompted. “I can make some more.”

Pete shook his head, blushing. “Uh, no. Thank you, but honestly I’m stuffed.” Stuffed. Him. It was an unusual feeling to him, one he hadn't felt since he was a kid, before the bite. Weird, but not uncomfortable. Pete hadn't been able to get his fill to eat pretty much ever since he became Spiderman. He was always hungry, it seemed. That pang of hunger was a constant emptiness in the pit of his stomach these days. It hadn’t been as bad when he lived with May but ever since he’d struck out on his own, he was almost always starving; which happened when one had super metabolism and a constant need for energy and fuel for said metabolism. That fact did not stop Pete from feeling a little embarrassed for eating so much, though. He couldn't imagine what Wade must be thinking.

"On the plus side,” Pete said. “I didn't turn into a giant blueberry." He gave Wade a thumbs up. "Ooh, blueberries. We should add some of those next time."

Wade’s grin widened, and turned a bit crooked, maybe a touch lecherous.

Pete’s eyes widened when he realized he’d just invited himself over for breakfast again. Pete swallowed nervously. "Uh... Not that--there doesn’t have to be a next--I wouldn't want to be rude--I mean--ya know--you don't have to make me blueberry pancakes if you don’t want to--I don't know why I said--I mean you already do way more for me than you should--more than anyone else ever has--I mean other than Aunt May, of course--she does so much for me--I just--I'm not--I don't wanna take advantage of you--cause you've been super nice to me--not that ya know everyone else is mean to me--I just--well I mean they _can_ be mean sometimes, but--" He realized he was rambling when he ran out of breath and he promptly cut himself off and covered his mouth.

Wade was still grinning, and Pete blushed hard as he kind of just sat there blinking for a moment, wishing Wade would say something, or put him out of his misery. "Thank you for the pancakes!" Pete blurted out suddenly before he sort of, unconsciously, leaned in and kissed Wade on the cheek as he slipped out of his chair. "I don't wanna be late for class, sorry, bye!" He all but shouted and in a flash, Pete had grabbed up his shoes and his backpack before he bolted out the door. In his blind haste, it wouldn’t be surprising if he’d left one of his school books or something important behind.


	4. The Courage of Stars Before We Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after goes nothing like Peter expected... Things go a little downhill from there...

Peter hadn't actually been late for class. He had actually been too early. He had just been so embarrassed by what had happened at breakfast that he'd just bolted. Tail between his legs and everything. He was mentally kicking himself in the pants the entire way to Uni, and was still obsessing and agonizing about it as he slowly made his way across campus.

"Hey, Pete, wait up!" Ned called. Ned was a natural gray and Pete’s partner for their Advanced Biophysics class.

Pete sighed and gave Ned an unenthusiastic wave. "Hey, Ned."

"Sup, man. You ok?" He asked as he caught up to his friend and slowed to match his pace.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I dunno." Ned shrugged. "You just looked kinda--sullen, I guess? Not to mention your shirt is all wrinkly, and your hair looks like it could use a comb, and from the smell of it I'd say you haven't brushed your teeth nor applied deodorant this morning."

It couldn't be as bad as all that, could it? Pete self-consciously combed his fingers through his hair again and checked his breath and pits. Shit. He'd kind of bolted out of Wade's house too embarrassed to care. "I'm fine, Ned, I just--had a weird morning."

Ned nodded as if he understood. "Hungover?"

Pete's brow furrowed and he shook his head. "What? No. I'm not--"

"It's ok man. That's what this whole college thing is about. No judgment here. Truthfully, I got a little tipsy myself last night from an overdose of Nyquil."

Pete huffed in amusement. "Well, I didn't drink last night, Nyquil or otherwise." Ned nodded, waiting for Pete to continue. "I was babysitting actually. I accidentally fell asleep on the sofa after my kid went to bed, hence--weird morning."

Ned nodded again, expression sympathetic. "Hot MILF catch you with morning wood?"

Pete's brow furrowed again and he balked at Ned, incredulous. "Dude, what? MILF? No--that's--he's a single dad, man."

"Ahh, ok." Ned smirked and attempted to knudge Pete with his elbow, but Pete shrugged away from him before he could. "So, the hot DILF caught you with morning wood, huh, huh?"

Pete groaned and covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. Why did high intelligence so often coincide with high levels of weird and awkward? "Did you need something, Ned?" Pete decided to change the subject.

"What, I can't just be concerned after my friend's wellbeing?" Pete gave him a look. "All right, fine. I wanted to go over our presentation again real quick before we go in there and deliver this bad boy. Make sure we got all our ducks in a row and all that."

Fuck, was today really Monday? Pete sighed then nodded and pointed at a nearby bench, where the two sat. Pete set his backpack down on the ground and went in search of his folder with his essay, project notes, and 'speech' he knew he put in his pack yesterday before heading to Wade’s.

"I was wondering if you would--" Ned started to say.

"No!" Pete cut him off.

"Relax, I hadn't even gotten to the--"

"No, no, no!" Pete continued, panicking and practically tearing his backpack apart. He pulled out textbook after textbook, and a few spiral notebooks but no project folder. "Fuck!" He didn't normally curse so strongly but in this situation he found no other word appropriate.

Not only had what Peter left at Wade's been important, it was about 50% of his grade, and his professor did not accept late assignments. Worse still was the fact that it wasn't just his neck on the block this time. Part of Ned's grade was relying on Peter as well. Ned might be weird, but he was a good partner. He did his work and they got along. They were friends.

"Dude, are you ok?" Ned asked, concerned.

Pete shook his head and covered his face again. "I must've--left it at Wade's."

"Left what at whose?"

"My project folder," Peter explained. "I left in such a hurry after breakfast I must've forgotten it." Peter started shoving everything back in his bag.

"And Wade is--wait, oh man, is he the hot DILF who saw your dream boner? _And_ he made you breakfast, too? Hot damn, Pete. You've been holding out on me!"

Peter rolled his eyes and hoisted his bag back onto his shoulders. "It's not--he didn't see my--" Wait… _Had_ Wade seen Pete with morning wood? God that was a terrifyingly embarrassing thought.

_"Baby boy!"_

Pete's eyes closed and he turned instinctively, already used to the nickname. When he opened his eyes again the weirdest sensation came over him; his heart began to rabbit in his chest with excitement, but it also sank to his feet with dread at the same time in a weirdly combined sensation of elation at seeing Wade, and shame at Pete's own awkwardness. Pete made a complete dunce of himself at breakfast that morning, and if he remembered correctly he had even kissed Wade on the cheek.

"Wade?"

" _That's_ Wade?" Ned kind of gave Pete a look like he was the weird one, after all Pete had not denied that this Wade was a DILF, only that he hadn't seen Pete with a boner. If Pete thought that dude was fuckable then he was the one who needed his head examined. Pete gave Ned a look like shut up and Ned just held up his hands and took a couple steps back to give Pete some space, though he would totally be eavesdropping.

Peter couldn't help but wonder what Wade was doing here though. Had the man somehow miraculously found Pete's folder and had the good will to bring it to him? His angel of hope and mercy? Or maybe, thanks to Pete's little display this morning, Wade had come as an Angel of death, to tell Pete that his babysitting services would no longer be required. Bye bye cozy, loving house. Bye bye sweet family he had already grown emotionally attached to. Bye bye good, happy feelings, and family meals. Hello freezing, dilapidated studio apartment, and boxed ramen. His old friends.

Pete scratched the back of his head nervously with one hand, then adjusted the strap on his shoulder with the other. He approached Wade slowly with his head down a little. "Hey, uh, what—what're you doing here?" Pete didn't remember telling Wade which Uni he went to but he must have at some point, right?

"What, no kiss hello?" Wade teased with a shit-eating grin, his blue eyes shining from inside his hoodie.

Pete blushed, and worried on his bottom lip with his teeth. "Uh, that was—I didn't mean—I'm sorry, I--"

Wade's strong hand was suddenly on his shoulder, ending his mini-rant and grounding him a little, also making Pete look up at him. "Relax, Petey,” Wade said with a smile.

Peter took in a deep breath and sighed. Wade had only said those two words, but Peter realized in that moment, with that disarming smile, he wasn't being reprimanded or fired. That was a huge relief. "You left so fast I couldn't give you this," Wade explained as he held up a brown paper bag that Pete could smell was packed with food. Wade had packed him a lunch? No one had packed Peter lunch since before Uncle Ben died; before Aunt May had been able to get on subsidized welfare which had covered his school lunches every year after.

Peter's eyebrows pinched in the center as he reached for the bag. "You—packed me lunch?"

"Of course. I remembered your big presentation was today and figured you'd either skip it or forget entirely. Gotta make sure my baby boy eats. And speaking of convenient plot devices--" Wade reached inside his hoodie and pulled out a thick red folder. "Thought, you might need this."

"Oh, my god!" Peter's eyes widened, and he reached for the folder before pulling Wade in for a grateful hug. "You literally just saved my life, Wade. Thank you!"

"No need to thank me, Petey." Wade smiled as he wrapped his arms around Peter and shamelessly tucked his face into the younger man’s neck and inhaled deeply through his nose.

"Did you just—smell me?" Peter asked nervously as he slowly pulled away.

"No." Wade shook his head and shoved his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. "Absolutely not... But on an unrelated side note: Deodorant?" Wade suddenly pulled his hand out of his pocket offering Peter a small travel sized stick of Old Spice deodorant. 

Wade was so weird sometimes but Peter couldn't help but find it endearing and he smiled at the man's antics. "Deodorant, Wade? Really?" He took it, though. That was two people who'd mentioned it. Peter could take a hint.

"I also have a toothbrush and comb if you want them," Wade pulled out said comb and a travel dental kit as well, that grin still in place. Where was he keeping these things? "I could even swing by your place and grab a fresh change of clothes before your presentation, if you want?"

The thought of anyone knowing where he lived, especially Wade, and seeing the absolute shithole he lived in made a massive knot of anxiety twist in Peter's gut. Plus, knowing Wade, the man would probably snoop and Peter didn't need the mercenary finding his unmentionables, namely any of his Spider gear, and busting open that can of worms. "Uh, thanks, Wade, but I think this is more than enough." He took the offered comb and dental pack as well.

"Ok, if you’re sure." Wade didn't push it.

"Thank you. Really. You didn't have to do all this, but I appreciate it."

"Of course I did, and you’re welcome." Wade ruffled his hair a little.

Peter rolled his eyes but permitted the man’s teasing for a moment before pushing his hand away. "You know they let people sit in for the presentations--" Peter started to say, clearly the beginning of an invitation.

If possible, Wade's grin widened. "Any other time I'd love to watch you talk nerdy to me, baby boy, but I have somewhere else I gotta be." Wade did not miss the blush, nor the slight disappointment that crossed Peter's face that he quickly tried to cover up. "But I wanna hear all about it tonight. You can regale us over dinner."

Peter assumed that meant Wade needed him to babysit again so he smiled and nodded his head. "Sure, ok. Normal time?"

Wade nodded and combed his fingers through Peter's mop of brown waves that he had just messed up. "Now go kick some science ass!" Wade stated and gave Peter's shoulder a light jab and a squeeze before he turned to leave.

"Thanks, Wade. Seeya tonight," Peter called to him with a wave, which Wade returned before he was gone through the crowd.

Ned was grinning like a Cheshire cat when Peter made his way back over to him. "What?"

"Nothing," Ned said with a shrug, but that damn knowing grin never left his face and it irritated Peter all the way to the campus locker room.

"What?" Peter said again, as he looked up at Ned from the bench he was sitting on to take off his shoes. Pete was annoyed at the way Ned was acting; like he knew something Peter didn't. 

"Dude, relax, ok?” Ned tried to console him. “It's just—nice to see you happy for a change man. That's all."

"What's that suppos—I'm happy," Peter defended.

"Sure, yeah. I don't mean like you've been walking around super depressed or anything, but—I dunno man, you always used to look kinda gaunt and sad a lot, and lately you just seem really happy. Like—content. Fuller. Kinda glowy and stuff." Ned made a gesture with his hands as if he were petting Peter's aura. "I dunno if it's this Wade guy or what's changed, but it's nice man. Looks good on you."

Peter didn’t know what to say to that. The only thing that had changed recently _was_ meeting Wade and Ellie and having them as a part of his life. If he had to admit it, compared to three weeks ago, he does feel different. He doesn't know how that makes him feel. Sure, since meeting Wade and Ellie he's had a lot more on his plate than just school and Spiderman, but were things really so bad off before? Did he really need to ask that question when he already knew the answer? I mean, it was enough for Ned to notice and say something so... Damn... Maybe he wasn't depressed, but it wasn't like he'd actually been _happy_ by any means, either. He'd just been going through the motions as they say. School and listening to the police scanner had sort of been what his life had dissolved into.

Did that mean--was he taking advantage of Wade's kindness and hospitality? The man was paying him to babysit, to perform a service, and Peter was acting like he was, what? Part of their family? Like he belonged? Shit...

Peter showered quickly, managing to keep his wing binding dry. He even used the toiletries Wade had given him. He put his clothes back on from the day before, clothes that he tried so hard to ignore the fact they smelled more like Wade than himself. Double shit.

Pete was distracted by his thoughts all through his morning classes. It was only when it came time for Ned and him to deliver their presentation that afternoon that he somehow managed to pull himself out of it, even if just for a little while. Pete thought they knocked it out of the park, if he could say so himself. Their professor had even told them, in no uncertain terms, that he was impressed. If Peter hadn't bound his feathers, he would be ruffling and preening them with delight. He couldn't wait to tell Wade... and then he was dwelling on his thoughts again... Analyzing. Over-analyzing. Creating scenarios that didn’t exist outside his own head. Putting himself in a pretty shitty headspace... Triple shit.

He was so messed up about it that when Ned invited him out to celebrate their achievement, Pete made up an excuse why he couldn’t, and hopped the nearest subway to the other side of town.

Almost an hour later, Pete was opening the door to his freezing cold apartment, that he'd forgotten to lock again. He sort of just stopped and stood there in the doorway, staring. This was his life. Right here. 941 square feet of cold, dull pauperism. No wonder he had latched onto Wade and Ellie so hard. He _was_ taking advantage of Wade's hospitality and his kindness... Pete brought his hands up to scrub his face. He didn’t realize until his hands came away wet, that he had started to cry.

He pulled out his phone to send a text to Wade, to let him know he couldn't make it tonight, but his Spider sense suddenly ignited and he turned just in time to see a pistol aimed at his face.

"Gimme the phone!" Junkie flavor of the week demanded as he threatened Peter with his gun. "Turn around! Don't look at me!"

"Hey, hey, all right man. Just--"

"Gimme the phone!" He demanded and Peter held up his hands.

"Which is it man? Turn around or give you the phone?" He wasn't supposed to be Spiderman right now. He was just Peter Parker, which meant no impressive heroics. He started to extend his hand holding his phone towards the junkie when it was ripped out of Peter's hand. "Woah, hey, easy man. Easy, ok!"

"And your wallet, gimme that too!" Junkie demanded.

"Ok, but, I'm warning you there's nothing in it, man, I'm really--"

"Shut up, and gimme the damn wallet!" Peter could hear several of his neighbors peaking out their doors or whispering behind them. Just willfully ignorant and ignoring the kid being robbed at the end of the hall.

"Ok, man, seriously. It's in my pocket, I gotta--" The junkie started reaching into Peter's pockets himself. "Woah! Dude, just--"

"Shut up!" The gun was at his face again as the Junkie slammed him hard against the door frame making Pete groan when he felt the buckle of his binding harness bash into his sternum.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it though, cause Junkie was suddenly pulling on his backpack; the very same backpack that had a secret compartment where Peter kept his suit and his web shooters. "No, hey man, please!" The backpack he would fight for. "I'll give you whatever you want, man. I got some spare cash hidden away in my kitchen but this has four years worth of research papers, man, please!"

"Gimme the damn bag!" Junkie demanded.

"Please, dude! Anything else, please!" Peter struggled for it with him which made the Junkie more aggressive. Shit. A little girl and her mother carrying groceries had chosen that exact moment to walk up the stairs and before either could react the junkie suddenly had the little girl in his arms and was pointing the gun at her head.

"Gimme everything, motherfucker, or I shoot her!"

_Every action has consequences._ Peter should have just given him the bag. "Hey. Hey, calm down man. Ok. You don't want to do this." The mother was screaming and crying and terrified and Peter's guilt magnified tenfold, but so did his resolve. Peter Parker or not, he was also Spiderman. He could do something to stop this. "Look... Ok... Here... It's yours man, just... Let her go all right?" He held out his backpack and the junkie snatched it with his free hand.

"And the cash!" Junkie demanded.

"Yes. Of course, it's in here man, just, please let her go." The junkie shook his head and squeezed the little girl tighter. "Ok... Ok… Calm down… It's in here..." Peter slowly backed into his apartment, and the junkie followed with the girl.

"Where is it man?" Junkie demanded threateningly/

"Easy, ok? It's in the freezer. Hidden in a bag of peas,” Peter gestured at the fridge.

"Well, go get it!" Junkie demanded as he held the gun against the girl's head. "No funny business, motherfucker, or I blow her brains out!"

"Hey, don’t do that man, ok? It's gonna be ok," he tried to calm them both, but he was speaking primarily to the little girl. “You’re gonna be ok.”

Peter moved slowly to the fridge and opened the freezer. "Easy, man. It's right here." He reached his hand inside to pull out a bag of frozen peas. "Here. It's right here. Everything I own."

Just as Peter hoped, the man let the girl go and dropped the backpack as he lunged for the bag of frozen vegetables as if his life depended on it. As Junkie tore open the bag and searched its contents desperately, Peter had crouched and reached inside his backpack, into the inside pocket, and slipped on his webshooters by the time the Junkie had dumped the contents of the bag all over his kitchen counter. Pete slowly stood up, pushing the little girl behind him just as the junkie roared and rounded on him with the gun pointed. "Where's the money?"

"Dude, look around you?" With the junkie focused on him Peter subtly moved to let the girls mother at the door silently urge her outside to escape. "You think if I had some magical stash of cash I'd be living like this?"

"You think this is a joke, hombre? I will fucking shoot you where you stand!"

"I have no doubts you'd try. You'd miss, but you can certainly try." The barrel of the gun was suddenly pressed to Pete's forehead, and the click of the hammer being pulled back sounded just as the click of the door closed. Peter grabbed the barrel of the gun to push it away, also squeezing the barrel which caused it to close just enough that the shot exploded in Junkie's hand when he pulled the trigger. Peter's hand was burned slightly from the powder, but the junkie screamed as he'd gotten the brunt of the damage, and was now missing a trigger finger.

Peter thought the man must be on PCP or something because he was suddenly wielding a knife and charging after Peter who deflected the strike but got a slice to his wrist in the process. A quick shot of his webbing later had disarmed the man, another shot to his chest pulled him close where Peter grabbed him by the neck and slammed his head on the counter top, efficiently knocking him unconscious.

Shit.

Peter cleaned away the webbing as best he could and deactivated his shooters to their resting state, before he opened his door. A small crowd was now gathered in the hall, including the terrified little girl and her mother. "Is everyone o--" Peter was cut off when the mother of the child suddenly wrapped him up in a vicious hug and started speaking to him rapidly in Chinese. Peter understood very little Chinese, but from what he could make out she was thanking him for saving her daughter. Peter just sort of patted her on the back a bit awkwardly.

The sounds of sirens had people scrambling down the halls like roaches, except the mother and child. Before the actual cops showed up, Peter had managed to collect his backpack and his phone and rolled down the cuffs of his sleeves to cover his wound and his web bracers which just looked like bracelets right now. He kept his hands up and visible as the officers arrived and cleared Peter from the scene. He was escorted outside where he was assessed by medical. Peter denied any treatment, though, and claimed he wasn't hurt.

After that, Peter gave his statement to the officer at the scene but he was asked to come down to give a formal statement at the station. One of the officers gave him a ride and he waited in the lobby for hours it seemed before a detective finally called him to make a statement. He kept to the simplest story, the same one he gave at the scene; that he was in the middle of calling a friend when the man held him up at gunpoint and all the events that followed. He claimed he had no idea what happened to the gun and chalked it up to a misfire and in the man's distraction he tackled him into the table. _"I was terrified the whole time. Thought I was gonna shit my pants."_ The officer told him he was lucky and gave him his card along with Victim services info.

Pete thought that would be the end of it, but he was told his apartment was now a crime scene and off limits until it was cleared by CSU. This was a crime scene in Queens on a Friday night. He could be waiting all night or longer for forensics to clear it. Damnit.

"Sorry, kid, but dems da breaks." He was given the number to a local hotel along with all the other info he had no idea what to do with. He had no renter’s insurance and no way of affording a hotel on his own. So in other words he was fucked. Homeless for the night... It wouldn't be the first time he had found himself in such a predicament due to other less criminal reasons, but still... Fuck.

He could ask Ned, but Ned lived on campus and it would be past curfew by the time Peter got there. Besides he didn't feel like explaining all this to Ned. He could go to Aunt May, but she would do nothing but fuss over him all night and remind him of how awful the neighborhood he lived in was, and invite him to move back in with her. He loved his Aunt dearly, don't get him wrong, but Pete's independence had been a hard fought battle and one he didn't feel like giving up because some Junkie asshole had tried to rob him. He was never in any real danger. God, how desensitized he’d become since the bite, that a gun wielding junkie was no real danger.

He didn't even have a change of clothes but he was so fucking grateful he'd managed to grab his backpack before he'd left. Last thing he needed was the cops to find his Spider gear. The small blessings, right? It was well past dinner time and Peter’s phone had been busted the entire time he was at the station.

_Wade..._

"Fuck!" Peter cursed before he hoofed it to the closest alley where he changed quickly into his suit and webbed his way across the city. Found another alley, changed back into his normal clothes, hid his suit back in his backpack, caught a bus, and was soon at Wade's door. No sooner had he been raising his hand to knock on the door, however, than said door was practically being ripped off its hinges and a very angry, very concerned wall of a man was staring at him.

"Uh, hi," Pete said, with his arm still raised as if to knock.

Wade's anger suddenly blossomed into fear and concern as he reached for Peter's arm and practically dragged him inside. He was pushing up Peter's sleeve exposing the slash and dried blood on his arm a moment later. Fuck. "Uh, that's--I was--I dropped a beaker in lab--"

Wade shoved Peter into a chair and pressed his injured arm on the table, which was when Peter realized the table had still been set for dinner... For two, though, not three. "It's nothing, Wade, really. I'm fine,” Peter tried to protest.

It was when he tried to get up, though, that Wade's hand very firmly pressed against his chest, making sure he stayed down. "Don't. Fucking. Move," Wade ordered, the first words out of his mouth since Pete arrived. The deadly serious look in his eyes made Peter gulp and he nodded his head, staying put.

Wade disappeared down the hall and Peter's guilt overwhelmed him, though his curiosity was right along with it. Where was Ellie? What was for dinner that still smelled so fucking good? Why was Wade still here, and--was he wearing cologne?

Wade stomped back into the living room carrying a small red duffle and he set it on the table as he pulled a seat right up next to Peter and started taking things out of the kit; alcohol, peroxide, bandages, gauze, medical tape. "Take off your shirt," Wade ordered further and Peter started to protest. Wade laid him with another stern gaze, however, which left no room for arguing. "Either you take it off, or I cut it off, Petey. Your choice. Though, honestly, I hope you choose the latter."

Peter stared at Wade unsure if he was serious or not, but after a tense moment or two he started to unbutton the flannel, ignoring the almost disappointed sounding 'Damn' that Wade breathed out afterward. Or maybe he'd just imagined it? Peter unzipped the wing slits in the back of his shirt, then reached behind his neck to bunch the material and pull it off over his head. Underneath the flannel, the chest straps to his wing bindings were very clearly visible, along with a smattering of bruises that were probably much worse a couple hours ago, honestly.

Wade was suddenly reaching for his other hand, the one that had been burnt by the gun barrel, and examining the fading burn with a surprising gentleness. "Dropped a beaker, baby boy?"

"It was--” Peter swallowed hard again, trying to control his suddenly labored breathing. “--it had a type of acid in it."

"Mmhmm," Wade said, clearly not believing him. Wade knew what powder burns looked like. "And what about these?" Peter inhaled sharply through his nose as Wade reached out to touch one of the bruises on his chest. "The big bad beaker cause these, too?"

In all honesty, Peter was a very touch starved human being. He hadn't felt real, gentle human contact, skin to skin, in a ridiculously long time. Therefore, he couldn't stop the way the simple touch of Wade's scarred palm against his chest caused the hairs to raise up all over his body. He could even feel his feathers rustling beneath their binds. Wade seemed to note the reaction and for a moment blue met hazel and they stayed locked there for a long time.

"Who did it?" Wade asked, suddenly breaking both the eye contact and the touch as he picked up some cotton gauze and the peroxide to start cleaning Peter's arm. Peter was not imagining the sudden seriousness behind Wade's tone and his posture. Like a powder keg. One spark and he'd blow. Wade wanted to murder someone, namely the someone who had hurt Peter, and he was barely containing that rage.

Pete swallowed hard and tried to remember how to speak. He suddenly felt incredibly exhausted, and maybe a little aroused, but either way he knew he couldn't lie to Wade. Not right now. Not about this. "Just some junkie… Tried to rob me." He hissed through his teeth when the peroxide seeped into the gash on his arm. "Broke my phone, that's why I couldn't--" He inhaled sharply again.

"The cops show up?"

"Yeah. Made me give a statement downtown... Sealed off my apartment until forensics clears it."

"Forensics?" Wade's hairless brows pinched together in concern and alarm.

"Yeah," Peter nodded. "His gun misfired and apparently shot off his own finger so yeah. Forensics has to clear it."

Wade visibly relaxed. The word forensics had him thinking something much, much worse. "And how long is that gonna take?"

Peter shrugged. "It's a Friday night in Queens, so--" he shrugged again, letting the sentence trail off.

"Where are you staying?" Wade asked and when Peter didn't answer right away, he stopped what he was doing and looked at him again. "Where are you staying, Petey?"

"I'll probably call Aunt May," he lied. He definitely would not be calling Aunt May.

"You're a terrible liar, Petey, you know that? Remind me to invite you over the next time we play strip poker."

Peter blushed, and without his shirt on Wade now knew that whenever he did so it was a full body blush.

"Where's Ellie?" Peter tried to change the subject.

"Sleepover with a friend," Wade answered honestly, using the alcohol to clean off the peroxide now. A sleepover? Was that arranged before or after Wade thought Pete wasn’t gonna show? If it was before, then did that mean Wade had invited him over for dinner just the two of them? Was that why the table was set for only two? Or had Wade just made some last minute arrangements for someone to watch Ellie? But if that was the case, wouldn’t he have been out doing whatever it was he did when Peter watched her?

"I'm surprised they didn't send you to the hospital," Wade broke Peter out of his thoughts. "This looks like it might need stitches."

"I don't like hospitals," Peter said and suddenly Wade was staring at him again, giving Peter that nervous feeling like Wade was looking right through him. "Just put a bandage on it, I'll be fine, honest."

Wade didn't say anything else as he continued to clean and bandage Peter's wound. "You can crash here tonight," he offered casually as he assessed the damage to Pete's other hand... damage that had seemed much worse the first time Wade had seen it.

"That's nice of you to offer, Wade--but I don't need your charity."

"My what?"

Suddenly, it was like the pandora’s box of Peter’s insecurities just opened and he couldn’t close it. "I was--doing just fine on my own!"

"Woah, baby boy, back the fuck up... What are you talking about?"

"You." Peter gestured at the dinner table and the kitchen. "This. The breakfasts. The dinners. The blankets and the sack lunches and-- _everything_. I'm not some poor charity case in need of your handouts. I was doing _fine_ on my _own_!" 

"Baby boy--Petey--sit down." When had Peter stood up? "Please, Peter, sit down." Wade used his given name again, which meant he was being serious.

Peter could feel his wings stressing painfully against the binding clothes covering them, as if they so desperately wanted to be free, and he had to focus to relax the tension as he sat down.

Wade's hand was suddenly taking his, holding it, warming and calming him with the basest of touches. Peter's gaze immediately locked onto where their hands were joined and he inhaled and exhaled deeply in and out though his nose. Wade was just playing with his hand. It wasn't sexual, but it felt so damn nice. Peter's hackles almost immediately lowered as he got lost in Wade's touch.

"Listen, Petey. I don't think you’re a charity case. I've never thought that. The truth is, I honestly have no idea what I'm doing here." Wade laughed dryly at himself. "You've been taking such good care of my little girl and our home and I dunno, I guess--I just wanted to take care of you in return."

"I don't need you to take care of me," Peter said, though his own voice sounded like it was coming from a hundred miles away. Like it wasn't him saying it because all he could think about was Wade's hand in his. That hand holding his that was so strong and warm. Just the simplest, most basic touch of holding hands was something Peter had denied and been denied for so long, because he could never let anyone close. Could never let anyone see or know. "I can take care of myself."

"I know. I know that, baby boy," Wade said and his other hand lifted up Peter's arm, causing tendrils of fire to follow up his skin and cause every hair to raise over his body once more. Even his wings and his feathers were straining and rustling against their bindings again.

When Wade's hand reached his face, and held his jaw, Peter closed his eyes and nuzzled his cheek into the man's palm, suddenly desperate for his touch now that he'd gotten a taste. The hand holding had been his gateway drug and now he wanted to know howWade's hands felt all over. "I'm not--who you think I am," Peter breathed out as his eyes slowly opened and gazed longingly into Wade's impossibly blue ones, though Pete's were glassy from unshed tears.

"I could tell you the same thing, tiger," Wade said and the sour face Peter pulled after that made Wade laugh. "You're right, yeah. That one was bad. I take it back." Wade huffed dryly in amusement and leaned forward to press his forehead against Peter's, delighted when the younger man didn't pull away.

That was one of the first things Wade had noticed about Peter. Well maybe not the first. The first had definitely been that ass, then maybe the eyes, then the hair, and his brains, but the point was... Wade had definitely noticed that Peter shied away from touch with others. In their society, touching was a very common, expected, social thing. Even among strangers. It was a thousand subtle touches in a day, but Petey… Petey didn't let other people touch him. Even his friends, like Ned, he shied away from even the subtlest of social graces. Except here, with him, and with Ellie... Maybe Pete was different with his Aunt, too, but Wade hadn't seen them interact so he had no base of judgement there. All he knew was in the time he had observed Peter, and he had [s]stalked[/s] observed the man quite extensively before hiring him on to watch his daughter, he knew the younger man did not like to be touched, or perhaps more accurately, he was afraid of it… But not with Wade. Peter Parker was afraid of touch from everyone else except Wade Fucking Wilson. Is that something Alanis would call Ironic?

Wade's hand slowly drifted down Peter's neck and his chest until his fingers rested over the buckle securing the harness of his wing bindings in place. "How long have you been wearing this?" He couldn't help but notice the way the lines of the harness made tracks in Peter’s skin.

Peter inhaled and pulled away suddenly, making Wade immediately regret even bringing it up. "I need to go," Peter said as he stood up quickly.

Wade's hand on his wrist prevented him from going too far, though. "Go where?"

Peter was also suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he was still wearing his web shooters. They weren't in their active form, but still, his panic only seemed to worsen with that knowledge. "I don't know. Anywhere not here. Somewhere I can breathe. Please, let me go, Wade?" The grip on his wrist wasn’t really that tight. Peter could easily slip out of it, but it was the principle of the thing; like a part of him needed Wade’s permission. He couldn’t explain it.

Wade was suddenly standing, his much taller height towering over Peter but not in a threatening way. His hand was holding Peter's face once more, and Peter once again felt helpless as he instinctively nuzzled his cheek into it. "Only if you promise you'll come back, so we can talk," Wade said softly, surprising even himself with how adult he sounded.

Peter was trembling slightly as his eyes opened and locked onto Wade's. After several long moments, Peter finally nodded. "Promise, baby boy," Wade insisted he use his words.

"I promise," Pete said, though a little defiance was clear in his tone, the brat.

"Promise what?" Wade persisted.

"I promise I'll come back," Peter spoke through gritted teeth, as he lifted his face out of Wade's hand and pulled on the man’s grip.

"Good boy," Wade said as he released Peter's hand.

Peter grabbed his shirt off the floor, then his backpack and bolted out the front door.


End file.
